


First Deep Cut

by fandumbandflummery



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Minor Violence, clone life is pretty rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 18:45:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10747617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/pseuds/fandumbandflummery
Summary: A short story about the boys who would become Cody and Rex, and the origin story of a famous scar.





	First Deep Cut

2224 has been good, very good. 

He's excelled far beyond the already-high bar set by the trainers and the Kaminoans with their datapads, earning the highest scores in non-ARC/RC-class close-quarter combat exercises so far. However, today’s the first day they’re training not with staves or fists or rubber knives, but with the real steel: to be precise, 8-inch vibroblades. On top of that, today he’ll be training with clones he’s only seen in passing in the halls or at their mess tables - but never fought.

He’d be lying if he said the prospect wasn’t exciting.

The training sergeant graphically demonstrates the blades’ razor sharpness and incredible durability by throwing a hunk of some kind of flesh - 2224 assumes it was attached to an aiwha at some point - into the air, spearing it as it comes down, and with a slight shake of his wrist, nearly bisecting the thing before letting the remains land with a sick splattering thud. The assembled cadets all know better than to wince at the noise.

2224 holds back a grin when the sarge orders him to step forward first, and hands him one of the fresh blades.

Then he calls up one of the unknowns.

“7567!” he barks, and a cadet with closely buzzed hair and an expression far too stoic and authoritative for his few years steps forward from the end of the line of strangers, and stops when he’s an arm’s length away from 2224. The sarge hands him a blade of his own, and steps back. A nod, and it’s all the pair need to begin.

It’s a legitimate fight, with neither cadet holding back - but this is how it always is. Training isn’t much use if one doesn’t treat it like the real thing, take it as seriously as possible. And take it seriously is exactly 2224 does - he’s in his element here, lashing out with the blade, blocking with his arms, kicking, ducking, a practically untouchable whirlwind of power and agility.

Until 7567 gets the upper hand, in an instant too fast for 2224 to read and take any measures against it.

7567 makes a motion as if he’s bringing the hand with the blade in it back to slash. Except instead the butt of the vibroblade’s handle hits 2224 in his right eye, and before he can properly react to a blunt object practically turning his eye into sludge the other cadet manages to spin the blade around and slash at 2224’s face.  
Half blind and still stunned, he strikes out wildly - and his arm is seized and practically snapped like a twig over 7576’s knee. In a few more moments 2224 is on the ground, with a broken arm, no weapon, and still in enough shock to wonder why he’s on the ground instead of standing, and when exactly his opponent’s arm went around his neck, instead of reacting normally.

As the blood from the cut streams into his eyes and he fights for breath, 2224 can’t seem to move his remaining good hand to tap out with, limbs suddenly feeling as though they’re made of jelly, and he’s just so tired.

(Oxygen deprivation…difficulty of movement in…seconds, lack of consciousness within…minutes, the Kaminoan with the interactive holo of a clone’s cardio-pulmonary systems drones on - of all the times to remember anatomy class.)

He faintly hears the sergeant ordering the other cadet to stand down before the world goes black.

-

2224 wakes up laid out on one of the cots in the hospital wing, just as the medical droid finishes up suturing his face. But its the pain of trying to open his swollen right eye that makes him swear a little in Mando'a, making the droid bleep in a scandalized manner before scooting out the door of the recovery room, and letting out another offended electronic squawk as its pushed aside by none other than 7567, looking a bit more flushed and with a few more bruises on his face, but no less oddly stoic.

2224 smiles a little at that, though he’s not really sure why. “Come to survey your good work, cadet?”

“I almost killed you,” 7576 says. “Sergeant was impressed with me. I just wanted to see if you were…still alive.”

The words seem matter-of-fact, even callous; but 2224 knows the tone is more “sorry for trying to murder you right after we met”.

“Don’t apologize. You did what we’re being trained for,” 2224 says, reaching up to touch his fresh stitches - and swearing in pain again, when he realizes that he tried to do that with his broken arm, currently mummified from his hand to above his elbow in a hard cast. With his good hand instead he runs his fingers down the side of his face - and lets out a low whistle as he feels a long, jagged slash going from his hairline, around his eye, to end at the top of his cheekbone. Even bacta would have a hard time taking care of it without leaving a sizeable scar.

“Sergeant told the head sawbones that you can’t have the anti-scarring stuff - he wants to make an example of you, ‘cause you got ahead of yourself and got your shebs kicked,” as if he read 2224’s mind, but then a faint crafty look flashes across 7567’s stoic face. “But - I’m in field dressing in about ten hours, and I know where the right drawers are, if you-”

2224 raises his good hand to cut the other cadet off. “Nah. Don’t get yourself into trouble for stealing. Besides, I think I’ll take the sarge’s medicine - it’ll stick, at least,” He pauses to chuckle, which turns into a groan of pain - bruised or fractured ribs, he thinks, judging from the bandages he can see on his bare torso, now that he looks down. Damn, but he was soundly beaten.

“You’re no slouch at close quarters…number, again?”

“7567. And you’re 2224.”

Just then a call goes out on the speaker system in the halls outside, and 7567 huffs a little like the boy he is, annoyed by it interrupting his moment with 2224 before his mature, stoic manner returns.

“I have to go. My squad’s free hour’s up in ten and I have to be ready for swim training by 0500.”

“See you around, 7567 - vod,” he adds, smiling.

As the other cadet leaves, he thinks he catches a hint of an answering smile on 7567’s stone face. For all that he did nearly die at his hands, 2224 decides he wouldn’t mind seeing 7567 more often.


End file.
